Pain Doesn't Smile
by you-don't-understand
Summary: Death is the hardest thing to heal, and his wounds gape open with sorrow and suffering. What Mrs Weasley's thinking at the end of book 5. Just an idea I had, it's not that long. Please review.


**Author's Note:** Title kind of sucks again, sorry. This is just an idea I had a few weeks ago at about 2 AM, and finished today. It's not as good as it could be, but that's life. It's basically Molly Weasley's thoughts at the end of book five, beginning with them waiting for the kids at King's Cross. It barely says Harry's name in her thoughts, because she would know who she was thinking about, and therefore wouldn't be thinking his name. Hope that makes sense. Please review; tell me what you think, good or bad. Kisses, Sarah x :-)

**Disclaimer:** This whole situation takes place during OotP, which belongs to JKR.

>--->--->---

_If you think you've had too much of this life, well hang on: 'cause everybody hurts, take comfort in your friends. Everybody hurts, don't throw your hands. Don't throw your hands if you feel like you're alone: no, no, no, you're not alone._

>--->--->---

Pain.

So much pain.

_Too much_ pain.

Why him? He's been through enough. All through his life he's dealt with death, sorrow, mistreatment. First his parents, and now Sirius, the closest he's ever been to a father, a family member to call his own. Death is the hardest thing to heal, and his wounds gape open with sorrow and suffering. Maybe they'll never be closed. Because he's just not ready. I love him like my own son, but he's just not ready to have a motherly figure in his life, fussing and.

Five minutes, and they'll be here. The others in the welcoming party are making polite small talk with each other, but their voices hold a deadened quality. Sirius' death has been hard on us all. As the first major loss in the war for the Order, hisdeath has made the whole situation so terrifyingly real.

What do I say to him? What can you say to a boy who's been through so much pain that your own worries seem so insignificant? And his worries only continue to grow, expand, and get much, much worse.

Do I act as I usually do? Pull him into a tight hug like always, call him 'dear' and wish him a good summer?

Even though I know, deep inside, his summer will be plagued with grief and torment.

Or do I look at him with sympathetic eyes, and tell him I understand what he's going through?

But I don't. I doubt I could ever understand what _he's_ going through.

No one can really understand the burdens and woes he carries on his young shoulders, least of all me.

Soon, children start to emerge in twos and threes from the barrier. Reunions all around, some relieved, some happy, some casual. But the message in all the conversations is the same, in whatever tone spoken; "He's back. What happens now?"

Yes, indeed, what does happen now?

I wait patiently for the children to arrive. It doesn't take long, the four of them all crashing through the barrier together. I see Ron and Ginny straight away, their hair glinting in the dusty station sunlight. I rush forward and capture them in a tight embrace, glad they don't appear to be harmed after their dangerous adventure.

Then I spot him. Walking slowly with his head down, feet dragging as though every step causes him great pain. A powerful feeling of love; and an inescapable need to comfort him controls me as I bring him to me, and hug him like a mother should, like he deserves. In the background the others great each other gleefully, ecstatic to meet up again, but I concentrate on Harry, feeling his hands unwillingly clasp around my back and his posture stiffen at the unexpected contact.

"Oh, and Harry dear, how are you?" I had fallen into the trap of the dilemma I tried to solve- asking him how he is.

"Fine." He replies tonelessly, his unique eyes holding hidden horrors, and I wince as I realise what I'd said. 'How are you?' Honestly. How did I think he was? I know he was lying, when he answered my ridiculous question, his irises betray him, but I can't blame him. I let go and step back from him, and turn to greet Hermione, going through the familiar motions, while my mind stays on the raven haired boy to my right.

The others take over, speaking in falsely cheerful voices, and soon enough I'm walking besides Arthur, at the front of the party, heading over to the horrible Dursleys, who stare at us in disgust. Lily's sister keeps glancing behind her, as though to check no one is watching them associate with 'these people'.

As the rest of the Order members give Harry's family a 'friendly warning' as Remus puts it, I find my eyes locking onto his head, as he watches the meeting with an unreadable expression on his face. Is it gratitude? Lingering guilt? Or simply more pain?

Finally, it's time for us to part ways once again. I can't bear to let him go, let him out of my sight. Will he be alright? I thin I already know the answer to _that_ question. Maybe he'll never be alright again. I his eyes, he's lost it all, all those who ever loved him. The realisation still hasn't hit him of just how many other people love him, and would go to hell and back to make his pain go away. I suppose when someone gets it all taken from them, everything, their hearts greatest desire, it's hard to see that you can fill the void.

I pull him into another hug. I have to convey my feelings to him, my unwillingness to leave him with his cold-hearted family. "Harry, we'll have you away from there as soon as we can," I whisper, not trusting myself to speak louder without letting my locked up tears fall.

As the others say their goodbyes, he nods to show his understanding. I hope he knows just how much he means to us, how much we love him. He smiles, a small, sad smile, and raises his hand in a gesture of farewell. The smile doesn't reach his eyes. Pain doesn't smile, after all.

>--->--->---

Please review!


End file.
